


gentleness

by netherprince



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gentle Kissing, Recovery, Selectively Mute Jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-23 21:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherprince/pseuds/netherprince
Summary: sometimes all you need is some human kindness.[hi i accidentally somehow FUCKING FORGOT to put jacket in the character tags. this is now fixed]





	gentleness

It's late when Jacket comes through the door, but not so late that the apartment is dark. The Girl is relaxing on the couch, one hand playing with one of the long strands that frame her pale face, the other tapping along to the quiet music filtering through the air. She lifts her head when he sets his bag down, when he pulls off the mask and sets it to the side.

He's not visibly injured today aside from a few bruises, not that it's easy to tell under the bandages that cover most of his face and hands. Not enough to keep him fully hidden, the edges of scars showing on his cheeks, but enough to not scare her. He hopes he doesn't scare her anymore. He know how he looks... knows what he does, even if it's in a detached, distant way that fades the moment the mask is out of sight. Jacket raises his hand in greeting to the Girl, and she waves slightly in return. If he was a different person, he'd give her the smile he feels, but they never show quite right. A grimace, his rusual rictus grin... those would break the calm that's stretched between them, and he doesn't want that.

She's had more than enough of being scared of men, and he doesn't want to add to the pile.

After digging quietly in the bag, he brings over his new treasures, lingering at the side of the couch as he holds out his hand. Two small bottles clink as she lifts them, both neon, one pink and one green. She grants him one of her rare smiles, setting them on the end table. 

"Thanks. That was... nice. Did you, um. Did you buy them? Or..." He stares at her, and she looks away. "I mean, either way, it's nice, but I don't- I mean, you-" The Girl goes quiet when he digs in his pocket, actually laughs when he gives her a receipt. "First Timer and- Double Breasted Jacket. Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?" 

She's more startled than anything when he chuckles. It's a weird thing, because his face doesn't change much, but the sound is warm. There's a fraction of a smile on his lips, but it shimmers in the eyes she first thought were so cold. In a heartbeat, her perception of him changes further from a glacier and closer to something more like a tropical ocean. The change has been gradual, not helped by his- his job, or whatever it was that lead him to her and keeps leading him out the door. He's not heartless, not inevitable- he shifts and weaves. Sure, he can kill, but so can the tide. If you understand it, though, you can have some fun with it. 

The Girl scoots over, making room for Jacket on the couch. He carefully takes off the eponymous clothing- along with his shoes and socks- before joining her, making sure not to take up more space than is strictly necessary. Even though the arm of the couch digs into his side, he lets her keep her space. He does relax subtly, though, the bandages around his neck shifting as his shoulders come down from their usual squaring. 

"I didn't, um. I didn't know you could talk? Or make noise, anyways. Do you talk?" He glances at her, his whole head moving, not just his eyes. "You don't have to, I guess. We've been getting along okay, haven't we? It's just surprising. I've been here, what... two weeks? Three? And you've never made any noise. Except hissing, but. Anyone would when they're stitching themselves up. But laughing- and, yes, I heard you- that's new!"

He's predictably silent for a long while. But he's not mad, or aggressively quiet. Jacket's face is thoughtful if anything, and so she lets him keep his peace, patting him lightly on the arm before sliding a little further away. Just to make sure.

"...C'n talk." His voice is hoarse, and it's not easy to tell if it's from smoking or disuse or the fights he's in. Maybe all three. "Just... hard. Used to- talk. To someone." He shakes his head, shrugging a little, and his face is still so blank. "Not here. So. Better not to." He shrugs again, looking down at himself. Down at the tags he wears. Jacket taps them with a finger, gentle, and it lingers before his hand falls. "Him. Now you."

The Girl stares for long enough that he shifts uncomfortably, looking away, looking at his jacket, his mask. He feels exposed. He regrets saying anything. He knows how he sounds, raspy, hoarse, thick- god, he probably sounds like someone who was in that fucking room-

"Jill. My name is Gillian, but you can call me Jill, okay? Now we're on the same level." He blinks at her, not comprehending. He hasn't offered her a name, fake or real. "It sounds hard for you... to talk, I mean. And just open up in general? So- so you shared, and now I shared. Just don't call me Gilly, alright? I'd have to punch you for that, and I'm warning you, I've got a wicked arm from playing Mario, mister. So don't test me," she jokes, voice wavering slightly as she pats his knee. Her hand doesn't flinch away after.

"Juh- ...Jill." A concession in a concession. He puts as much warmth, as much life in his voice as he can, and it must be enough, because she smiles at him in a way that makes him feel sheltered. Vulnerable inside, but wrapped in something safe, like his jacket, like his mask. Carefully, he lifts his hand, and before he can rest it on hers, she turns it over, and they're... they're holding hands?

It's nice.

Jill rests her head on his shoulder, apparently deciding she's already faced the worst of the danger. After all, she's touched him and threatened him, and he hasn't reacted negatively. The music continues on around them, and Jacket sighs quietly, resting the top of his head against hers ever so gently. He truly doesn't want to hurt her, even by accident, and he knows he's on the strong and stiff side. If he isn't careful, he could accidentally headbutt her.

"...Jacket?" He hums faintly, just enough to acknowledge her. It's as good a name as anything, and it's not like it's the first time he's been called that. It's his thing. "Would you kiss me if I asked you to? It's just... You're good to me. And handsome enough, even though you cover it all up. And I just... want to feel nice with you. Is that okay?"

He's quiet for awhile, but his thumb strokes back and forth along the back of her hand, soothing away any anxiety that's she's gone too far. He's just thinking. Jacket's other hand comes up, rubbing the lettering on the dog tags. "...Not kissed in awhile. Might b'bad at it."

It's not a hard connection for her to make. She files this new piece of information away. He's not the most forthcoming person, but she's putting together a better picture of him. "That's okay. Would you?"

There's another long pause, and she's sure he's going to say no. Maybe he's gay? It would make sense. But she watches, pleasantly surprised, as he lifts her hand, brushing his lips against her knuckles, before resting his cheek against them and nodding. "Kiss me, Jacket," she says quietly, and he turns to face her better. His eyes are so blue between the bandages. He offers her a small, genuine smile, then does as he's bid, kissing her so gently her heart aches. Her other hand comes up to rest on the nape of his neck to keep him from pulling away, and she kisses him in response, just as careful- just because she can't see any injuries, doesn't mean he doesn't have any hurts. 

Jill leads him to her jaw, but he takes detours along the way, making her laugh by kissing her nose, making her sigh with the diligence he takes in kissing every inch of her cheekbone, every freckle, just barely missing the streaks of her makeup. He traces the long curve of her jaw and noses her bright green earring, seeming more than happy to just enjoy what he's allowed. She runs her fingers through his messy, short hair, and he looks at her, barely pulled away from the corner of her mouth. "Can I- can I take your bandages off? I just... want to see your face better." She's seen beneath them by accident a few times when he has to change them. Once, she even had to help clean his face so he could patch it up. But still he hesitates, uncertain. "I don't need you to be perfect. I just want to see you. If you were perfect, you'd- scare me."

That reassurance, the comfort that like this, he doesn't scare her, that's enough for him to lightly nod, sitting back an inch and letting go of her hand with some reluctance. She undoes the bandages that cover his forehead and cheeks, and he surprises her further by removing the ones that wrap up his hands. 

There's so many scars that it takes her a moment to tell them apart. Mostly faint, but scored with deeper ones- are those bite marks? She ghosts over them, fingers light as air, and he starts quietly talking. "Dog. Knife. Break. Glass. Glass." She pauses at a particularly messy spot, redder and dented. "Mm. 'Splosion. Shrapnel."

"Will you ever tell me... what this is about?"

"M'be. S'hard. More than talkin'."

She accepts this, and kisses the burn mark lightly. "Okay. I'll listen when you're ready. Or we can go back to kissing." Another rare smile, and he kisses her hand again, each fingertip, each joint, the palm, the back, her wrist... up the scars on her forearm, in the curve of her elbow, along her faint bicep, up to the bright green strap of her dress. "I love this dress. It makes me feel safe... is that why you wear your jacket, Jacket?" He nods against her neck, where he's pressing a soft kiss to her pulse. 

She can't help but remember waking up one morning with the letterman draped around her shoulders, a blanket tucked over her lap. She smiles fondly, stroking his hair, smoothing the wildness of it, then is caught up in a high laugh because he just blew a raspberry on her collarbone! She pushes at his shoulder, but pulls him back in before he can get the wrong idea, smiling down at this silly, dangerous, empty, strange man.

"Kiss me more."


End file.
